The Vaults. They were massive underground dwelling places, meant to shelter humanity in the event of a nuclear war. Except, the Vault-Tec corporation that built them had other plans. They wanted to perfect society, not just preserve it. To do this, Vault=Tec turned every vault into a psychological experiment, exposing the carefully selected residents to unusual stimuli and carefully recording the results from a central, hidden command post.
Every vault was designed to carry out a different experiment. In one, the water purification system was set to fail at a certain date, and in another it was the electrical system. Another vault was given a large supply of weapons accessible to all and an overseer with near tyrannical authority. One vault was set up as a democracy, where the elected leader was expected to commit suicide after a year. There were vaults where a high percentage of the inhabitants were women or men or children. In still others, the residents were subjected to psychedelic chemicals or subliminal messages or unexplainable sickness. There were hundreds of different vaults and hundreds of different experiments.
There was, however, only one Vault T.
Vault T was special. It was not part of the larger Vault experiment, known privately as the “Societal Preservation Program”, but a side project, which is why it was named with a letter instead of a number. Dr. Simon Greenleaf, one of the main researchers for Vault-Tec was given card blanche to create a new vault to fit the needs of his private research as a way of repaying him for all his hard work. Dr. Greenleaf used the resources placed at his disposal and the total lack of accountability to create the strangest of all vaults, one which indulged his most secret desires.
It would be the smallest Vault, only capable of holding 100 residents. Vault T would also be the only all-female Vault. No men would be considered at all. Finally, all potential inhabitants would be carefully tested to make certain they fit a specific sexual profile. They would have to possess a high libido, a strong tickling fetish and be extremely ticklish. Even with advanced mental screening techniques, it took more effort to find those 100 women then to find the thousands of inhabitants for the larger vaults.
The very existence of Vault T was kept secret from everyone. The 100 women selected to be its residence told only that they had been accepted into the Vault-Tec program and were led to believe that they would be joining their spouse or family in one of the publically known vaults.
The years went by. Since Dr. Greenleaf had specified that the residence of his vault had to be between twenty and forty years of age, women were constantly being taken off the list when they hit that magic birthday, and younger women who fit the same profile were added. For all but Dr. Greenleaf, it seemed a foolish task. Certainly the vaults would never need to be used.
And then, on October 23rd 2077, the long awaited Great War started. When the bombs started to fall, more than a million souls fled to their designated Vault-Tec Transportation Center to be taken to their Vault. In the confusion, the 100 females were easily separated from spouse and family and diverted to Vault T, somewhere in the Rockies. Then the giant vault door was sealed for good.
Once the women were inside, the lies started. They had only been separated from the men out of the direst of needs, for a cause no less than the salvation of the human race. For the first ten years, the story went, background radiation levels would be so high they would cause any fetus conceived to be horribly mutated in the womb. They would be monsters, a threat to all around them, needing to be easier killed, at great emotional cost to the survivors, or allowed to live as a constant danger.
No, procreation could not be allowed they said until the radiation levels dropped and the only way to make sure of that was to keep the men women apart. In just ten years, the women were promised, the levels would be low enough to conceive safely, and the women would be reunited with the men kept in a different vault, moved to new communities where they could start repopulating the planet.
The 100 women had little choice but to believe. Millions had died that day, and they still had their lives. How could they doubt the Vault-Tec Corp which had saved them? Given little choice, they quickly settled into their new lives and responsibilities. On the surface Vault T was soon a model of efficiency. The darkness that lurked just below, however, needed little time to break free.
The first Tickle Riots happened only three months later.
* * * * *
Isabella Latimer walked down one of the lower corridors of Vault T, keeping a careful lookout for any signs of trouble. Not that she really knew what she would do if she found trouble. She had been a gym instructor before the War. The Overseer had made her a security officer only because she’d been one of the youngest, most physically fit of the 100 women assigned to live in the vault, and she’d had few other useful skills. Security had seemed like the least of their problems back then.
Not anymore. The rumors had started about a month ago, of a plot against the Overseer by a small group of women unhappy with the way things were being run. Now it was Isabella’s job to find the rebels even though she had zero training in law enforcement. To make matters even worse, she was completely unarmed. There were no guns, knives or even police batons allowed in Vault T. They had all been outlawed by the Vault Charter, written years before the place was even inhabited.
Well, at least the criminals would be unarmed as well…she prayed.
Then Isabella heard a metallic sound from a passageway off to her left. There shouldn’t be anyone else this many levels below the living quarters. Swallowing hard, and very aware of how far she was from any kind of backup, Isabella put her hand on the closest things she had to a weapon and talked in that direction.
Turning the corner, Isabella was greeted by a very pleasant sight. A maintenance hatch had been removed from the wall, and sticking out of the opening was a pair of legs ending in two very attractive feet. They twitched back and forth, as if to some music only they could hear.
Isabella smiled wide. She had never understood why the Overseer had banned all socks and shoes from the Vault. True, they were hardly needed in the temperature controlled network of tunnels, with their warm, plastic floors and lack of any creepy crawlies, but going around barefoot all the time still felt weird. She missed her high heels!
Right now, however, she was extremely grateful for the Overseers strange order. She stared at those feet for a few seconds, with their pink soles, high arches and bright purple toenails. A nicer shade than the red she was wearing, Isabella thought, glancing down at her own bare feet. Maybe she should ask to borrow it. After all, Isabella was pretty sure she knew whose feet those were, even if their owners head and torso were in the wall.
She crept forward silently, kneeling down next to those beautiful soles. Looking from side to side to make sure no one was watching, Isabella reached down and started stroking her fingers over their soft bottoms.
“he ehehehe ehw whahahahahttttt ahahahah whahahahattt ahahahah thehehehehe ehehehehehellllll!” A high pitched giggle started coming from inside the maintenance hatch.
“Vault Security, Ma’am. This is an official inquiry,” Isabella said in her stuffiest voice, “I need you to answer a few questions.” She started lightly raking her long fingernails across the high arches.
“Isahahahahh Isahahahabeeehehehllaaaa hahahah aha aha issss hahah ahah thahahttttt youuhuhuhuu ahahah ahah knocckkk ha ah ahaha knock hahah itttt hahahah offfffff!!!!!” The legs started slowly scooting across the floor as the woman in the hatch tried to get her head and torso free.
“I don’t think so!” Isabella cried, quickly sitting on the legs, straddling the woman around her knees, “You’re not going anywhere until I get some answers. Now tell me, why are you trying to sneak into the vault?” She started wiggling her fingers faster, grazing her nails just a bitter harder over the buttery soft skin of the two soles.
“AHA AHAHAHA AHAHA NAWWOOOOOO A AHAHAHAH WHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHA AYOHUHUHUHUHU CAHAHAHAHNN’TTT HAHAHAHAH CAAAHAHAHAHAHNNN’TT AHAHAH SNEHEHEHEHEH AHAHAH SNNNEEHEHEHEHEHAKKK INTUHUHUHUHUHUHU VAUUULLT AHAHAHAHAHHA NAWOOOOO WAHAHAHAYYYYYY AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!”
The two legs started kicking wildly and Isabella heard a banging sound from inside the wall as if her ticklee was banging on the pipes inside.
“Let me see, why would you try and sneak into Vault T?” Isabella asked playfully, her fingers continued their devilish dance, “I’ll bet it’s because you’re a communist! Admit you’re a communist you pinko scum and maybe I’ll have mercy on you!”
“HA AHAHAHA AHAHA NAWWWWT NAAWWTTTTT AHAHAHAHAHAHAH GRRRRRRHRHHH JUHUHUHUSSTT AHAHAHAHAH STAWWPPPPP AHAHAHAH ALREHEHEHEHDDDYYYY IISSAAHAHAH ISS AIISSAHAHAHBELLAAAA AHAHAH NAWWTTTTTT REHEHEHEHEHEDDDDDD!!!!” The owner of the ticklish feet howled from inside the wall.
“I say you are, comrade,” Isabella said in her best Russian accent, “Probably Chinese if these ticklish feet are proof of anything. Now you admit to being a communist spy trying to infiltrate Vault T, one of the last bastions of the American way, or I’ll tickle these piggies of yours all night!”
With that, Isabella slipped her fingertips underneath and between her ticklee’s wildly wiggling toes, gliding sharp nails and soft fingertips over the incredibly sensitive flesh found there. Her victim’s reaction was highly predictable. A hysterical, wailing laughter poured out from the open hatchway, and attempt the woman was trying to make at speech becoming pure nonsense.
“I knew it!” Isabella shouted over the cacophony coming from inside the wall, “All Chinese girls are hyper-ticklish on their toes! It is their one great weakness that any American can exploit!” The toes started wiggling so wildly that Isabella gave up on tickling all ten. She used one hand to hold back the five piggies of her victim’s left foot and started scraping beneath them with the other.
Somehow the woman’s laughter grew even more intense, the foot not being held kicking again and again into the cushiony floor. Still, she held out, refusing to say the words that would give her relief. That wasn’t surprising. As the war with China had heated up over the last few decades, so had the American propaganda efforts. All citizens had been completely convinced that there was no worse fate in life than to be communist, an attitude only increased by the nuclear war. Isabella knew the woman would do almost anything than admit to being one of those most hated of individuals.
Finally though, it was too much. She just couldn’t handle her ties being tickled for that long. As one last index finger swiped over her big toe, the woman broke, shrieking again and again.
“HE EHEHEH YEEEHEHSSSSS EHE EHEHEHE EYEEEHEHEHEHSSSS EHE EHEHE I’MMMMM EH EHEHEHEH I’MMMM REHEHEHEHEHEEDDDD HE EHEHEHEH REEHEHEHEDDDD EHEHEHEH CHINNEEHEHEHEHSSEE EHE EHEHEHEH NAWOOOOO HE EHEHEHEH PLEEAAHEHEHEHEHEH STAWWPP AHAHAHAHAHH ISSAHAHAHBEEHEHEHLLALAAAAAA!!!”
Isabella tickled her for a few more seconds, enjoying the touch of her bare feet too much to stop at once, before finally showing mercy. Then she got off her victim’s legs and helped her out of the wall. The woman who emerged was a mess, red faced, hair disheveled, clothes out of place and covered with sweat. She was, however, obviously not Chinese.
“That…that’s not… not fair Isabella…,” she gasped for air, still breathless from her ordeal, “You know I can’t…can’t stand it on my toes!” Unlike the jumpsuit issued to everyone in the other Vaults, Vault T’s uniform consisted of a fairly short skirt and a sleeveless blouse with a rather low neckline. Both articles of clothing had ridden up several inches during the woman’s ordeal, and she had to adjust them carefully before they were covering up all the body parts they were supposed to.
“Da comrade Melissa,” Isabella said in the Russian accent she had used earlier, “That is why you are communist now, sneaking into American vault.” She leaned in and gave the redhead a soft but passionate kiss.
“Sneaking in! That’s ridiculous!” Melissa growled in mock fury, “You know there’s no way in or out of this vault!” She reached out and tickled Isabella’s underarms for a second, left exposed by the same sleeveless blouse, forcing a few chuckles from her partner before she was able to grab Melissa’s arms, still weak from her tickling ordeal, and hold them.
“Now, now, you know the rules. It doesn’t matter what I said,” Isabella smiled, “You gave in, broke under the mighty power of my tickles, so you need to be punished. You will have to be the one to sneak into my room tonight, unseen by prying eyes. Right?”
Now it was Melissa’s turn to be embarrassed. She looked around from side to side to make sure no one else heard that comment and learned the girls’ dirty little secret. Seeing no one, she blushed in that pretty way all redheads have and nodded.
Isabella’s and Melissa’s relationship was a strange one, the kind only possible in Vault T. Before the war, neither had considered themselves lesbian or even bisexual. Melissa had been happily married woman for nearly ten years, while Isabella, barely 21, had still been enjoying bouncing from boyfriend to boyfriend, sampling all the wares of the male population. Then they both had to do without.
Though they first met, like all 100 women, on that first horrible day when bombs had started dropping and the two ton vault door had sealed them inside for a decade, they hadn’t really gotten to know each other until one of the many social functions organized by the Overseer a month later. Despite their age difference, they became fast friends.
As they grew closer, they began to trust each other more, to share their problems in the way women do. Both women, it seemed, were suffering from the lack of male companionship. They had been used to a full sex life, and now, to suddenly have to do without was rough.
“I’ve heard other women complain about sex as if it was an annoyance,” Isabella confided to Melissa one night, “Or they brag how they use it to win arguments! I could never do that! I’m sure I wanted to make love as much if not more than any of my boyfriends! How could I hold out?”
“I know,” Melissa would sympathize, “While all my married friends seemed happy their husbands only wanted it once a month, by husband and I were doing it three times a week! And if he had decided that was too much, I’d have driven him to the doctor for some Viagra!”
The weeks passed and both of their needs increased. That, along with the knowledge that it would be years before they would see any man again, led them to take comfort in each other’s arms. At first, ashamed, they only used each other to quench their physical needs. Soon, however, they friendship became more and more intimate, until they became a couple.
It didn’t take long until, during a particularly erotic encounter, that Isabella and Melissa discovered that their partner had a tickling fetish similar to their own. That was something neither woman had ever found in a man, and only served to bring them closer together.
“You know,” Melissa said, lying on the ground and looking up seductively, “Most of the cameras are down in this wing. We could have our little…fun and games right here, and no one would know. I wouldn’t have to find a way into your quarters without half of the living quarters seeing me.”
“I don’t know,” Isabella whispered, her mouth growing dry, “I am technically on duty…”
“Oh come now, I think Vault T can do without you for an hour,” she lifted her leg and waggled her bare foot back and forth, “You can go back to interrogating your communist spy…”
Isabella reached out for that foot, could already feel the soft skin under her fingertips again, hear Melissa’s hysterical laughter echoing in her ears, when…the Pip Boy 3000 on her wrist began to deep. She sighed deeply in frustration and looked down at its screen.”
“Officer Latimer,” the message read, “We have a report of the Tunnel Snakes causing trouble again. Please investigate immediately. Overseer.”
“Damn it!” Isabella swore, her voice dripping with frustration, “Sorry honey, I hate to break this up, but duty calls. I…I hope we can still get together tonight?” She tried to keep the disappointment and longing out of her voice, but Melissa could hear it anyway.
“Oh, alright,” Melissa exhaled, pretending to give in grudgingly, “I guess your little Chinese spy will find a way to get there unseen. After all, stealth is what we excel in! Then we can have some fun.”
“You are the best! See you then my little communist!” And with that Isabella ran off down the corridor, headed for the nearest elevator.
Suddenly all alone, Melissa could only shake her head, “Well, at least I’ll have more time to recover before she tickles me senselessly again.” With that, she crawled back through the maintenance hatch to finally fix the loose electrical junction she had started on before being so rudely interrupted.
Neither woman noticed the deep blue eyes staring at them from around the corner, or the pair of ruby red lips that crept up ever so slightly into a sly grin.
Every vault was designed to carry out a different experiment. In one, the water purification system was set to fail at a certain date, and in another it was the electrical system. Another vault was given a large supply of weapons accessible to all and an overseer with near tyrannical authority. One vault was set up as a democracy, where the elected leader was expected to commit suicide after a year. There were vaults where a high percentage of the inhabitants were women or men or children. In still others, the residents were subjected to psychedelic chemicals or subliminal messages or unexplainable sickness. There were hundreds of different vaults and hundreds of different experiments.
There was, however, only one Vault T.
Vault T was special. It was not part of the larger Vault experiment, known privately as the “Societal Preservation Program”, but a side project, which is why it was named with a letter instead of a number. Dr. Simon Greenleaf, one of the main researchers for Vault-Tec was given card blanche to create a new vault to fit the needs of his private research as a way of repaying him for all his hard work. Dr. Greenleaf used the resources placed at his disposal and the total lack of accountability to create the strangest of all vaults, one which indulged his most secret desires.
It would be the smallest Vault, only capable of holding 100 residents. Vault T would also be the only all-female Vault. No men would be considered at all. Finally, all potential inhabitants would be carefully tested to make certain they fit a specific sexual profile. They would have to possess a high libido, a strong tickling fetish and be extremely ticklish. Even with advanced mental screening techniques, it took more effort to find those 100 women then to find the thousands of inhabitants for the larger vaults.
The very existence of Vault T was kept secret from everyone. The 100 women selected to be its residence told only that they had been accepted into the Vault-Tec program and were led to believe that they would be joining their spouse or family in one of the publically known vaults.
The years went by. Since Dr. Greenleaf had specified that the residence of his vault had to be between twenty and forty years of age, women were constantly being taken off the list when they hit that magic birthday, and younger women who fit the same profile were added. For all but Dr. Greenleaf, it seemed a foolish task. Certainly the vaults would never need to be used.
And then, on October 23rd 2077, the long awaited Great War started. When the bombs started to fall, more than a million souls fled to their designated Vault-Tec Transportation Center to be taken to their Vault. In the confusion, the 100 females were easily separated from spouse and family and diverted to Vault T, somewhere in the Rockies. Then the giant vault door was sealed for good.
Once the women were inside, the lies started. They had only been separated from the men out of the direst of needs, for a cause no less than the salvation of the human race. For the first ten years, the story went, background radiation levels would be so high they would cause any fetus conceived to be horribly mutated in the womb. They would be monsters, a threat to all around them, needing to be easier killed, at great emotional cost to the survivors, or allowed to live as a constant danger.
No, procreation could not be allowed they said until the radiation levels dropped and the only way to make sure of that was to keep the men women apart. In just ten years, the women were promised, the levels would be low enough to conceive safely, and the women would be reunited with the men kept in a different vault, moved to new communities where they could start repopulating the planet.
The 100 women had little choice but to believe. Millions had died that day, and they still had their lives. How could they doubt the Vault-Tec Corp which had saved them? Given little choice, they quickly settled into their new lives and responsibilities. On the surface Vault T was soon a model of efficiency. The darkness that lurked just below, however, needed little time to break free.
The first Tickle Riots happened only three months later.
* * * * *
Isabella Latimer walked down one of the lower corridors of Vault T, keeping a careful lookout for any signs of trouble. Not that she really knew what she would do if she found trouble. She had been a gym instructor before the War. The Overseer had made her a security officer only because she’d been one of the youngest, most physically fit of the 100 women assigned to live in the vault, and she’d had few other useful skills. Security had seemed like the least of their problems back then.
Not anymore. The rumors had started about a month ago, of a plot against the Overseer by a small group of women unhappy with the way things were being run. Now it was Isabella’s job to find the rebels even though she had zero training in law enforcement. To make matters even worse, she was completely unarmed. There were no guns, knives or even police batons allowed in Vault T. They had all been outlawed by the Vault Charter, written years before the place was even inhabited.
Well, at least the criminals would be unarmed as well…she prayed.
Then Isabella heard a metallic sound from a passageway off to her left. There shouldn’t be anyone else this many levels below the living quarters. Swallowing hard, and very aware of how far she was from any kind of backup, Isabella put her hand on the closest things she had to a weapon and talked in that direction.
Turning the corner, Isabella was greeted by a very pleasant sight. A maintenance hatch had been removed from the wall, and sticking out of the opening was a pair of legs ending in two very attractive feet. They twitched back and forth, as if to some music only they could hear.
Isabella smiled wide. She had never understood why the Overseer had banned all socks and shoes from the Vault. True, they were hardly needed in the temperature controlled network of tunnels, with their warm, plastic floors and lack of any creepy crawlies, but going around barefoot all the time still felt weird. She missed her high heels!
Right now, however, she was extremely grateful for the Overseers strange order. She stared at those feet for a few seconds, with their pink soles, high arches and bright purple toenails. A nicer shade than the red she was wearing, Isabella thought, glancing down at her own bare feet. Maybe she should ask to borrow it. After all, Isabella was pretty sure she knew whose feet those were, even if their owners head and torso were in the wall.
She crept forward silently, kneeling down next to those beautiful soles. Looking from side to side to make sure no one was watching, Isabella reached down and started stroking her fingers over their soft bottoms.
“he ehehehe ehw whahahahahttttt ahahahah whahahahattt ahahahah thehehehehe ehehehehehellllll!” A high pitched giggle started coming from inside the maintenance hatch.
“Vault Security, Ma’am. This is an official inquiry,” Isabella said in her stuffiest voice, “I need you to answer a few questions.” She started lightly raking her long fingernails across the high arches.
“Isahahahahh Isahahahabeeehehehllaaaa hahahah aha aha issss hahah ahah thahahttttt youuhuhuhuu ahahah ahah knocckkk ha ah ahaha knock hahah itttt hahahah offfffff!!!!!” The legs started slowly scooting across the floor as the woman in the hatch tried to get her head and torso free.
“I don’t think so!” Isabella cried, quickly sitting on the legs, straddling the woman around her knees, “You’re not going anywhere until I get some answers. Now tell me, why are you trying to sneak into the vault?” She started wiggling her fingers faster, grazing her nails just a bitter harder over the buttery soft skin of the two soles.
“AHA AHAHAHA AHAHA NAWWOOOOOO A AHAHAHAH WHAHAHAA AHAHAHAHAHA AYOHUHUHUHUHU CAHAHAHAHNN’TTT HAHAHAHAH CAAAHAHAHAHAHNNN’TT AHAHAH SNEHEHEHEHEH AHAHAH SNNNEEHEHEHEHEHAKKK INTUHUHUHUHUHUHU VAUUULLT AHAHAHAHAHHA NAWOOOOO WAHAHAHAYYYYYY AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!”
The two legs started kicking wildly and Isabella heard a banging sound from inside the wall as if her ticklee was banging on the pipes inside.
“Let me see, why would you try and sneak into Vault T?” Isabella asked playfully, her fingers continued their devilish dance, “I’ll bet it’s because you’re a communist! Admit you’re a communist you pinko scum and maybe I’ll have mercy on you!”
“HA AHAHAHA AHAHA NAWWWWT NAAWWTTTTT AHAHAHAHAHAHAH GRRRRRRHRHHH JUHUHUHUSSTT AHAHAHAHAH STAWWPPPPP AHAHAHAH ALREHEHEHEHDDDYYYY IISSAAHAHAH ISS AIISSAHAHAHBELLAAAA AHAHAH NAWWTTTTTT REHEHEHEHEHEDDDDDD!!!!” The owner of the ticklish feet howled from inside the wall.
“I say you are, comrade,” Isabella said in her best Russian accent, “Probably Chinese if these ticklish feet are proof of anything. Now you admit to being a communist spy trying to infiltrate Vault T, one of the last bastions of the American way, or I’ll tickle these piggies of yours all night!”
With that, Isabella slipped her fingertips underneath and between her ticklee’s wildly wiggling toes, gliding sharp nails and soft fingertips over the incredibly sensitive flesh found there. Her victim’s reaction was highly predictable. A hysterical, wailing laughter poured out from the open hatchway, and attempt the woman was trying to make at speech becoming pure nonsense.
“I knew it!” Isabella shouted over the cacophony coming from inside the wall, “All Chinese girls are hyper-ticklish on their toes! It is their one great weakness that any American can exploit!” The toes started wiggling so wildly that Isabella gave up on tickling all ten. She used one hand to hold back the five piggies of her victim’s left foot and started scraping beneath them with the other.
Somehow the woman’s laughter grew even more intense, the foot not being held kicking again and again into the cushiony floor. Still, she held out, refusing to say the words that would give her relief. That wasn’t surprising. As the war with China had heated up over the last few decades, so had the American propaganda efforts. All citizens had been completely convinced that there was no worse fate in life than to be communist, an attitude only increased by the nuclear war. Isabella knew the woman would do almost anything than admit to being one of those most hated of individuals.
Finally though, it was too much. She just couldn’t handle her ties being tickled for that long. As one last index finger swiped over her big toe, the woman broke, shrieking again and again.
“HE EHEHEH YEEEHEHSSSSS EHE EHEHEHE EYEEEHEHEHEHSSSS EHE EHEHE I’MMMMM EH EHEHEHEH I’MMMM REHEHEHEHEHEEDDDD HE EHEHEHEH REEHEHEHEDDDD EHEHEHEH CHINNEEHEHEHEHSSEE EHE EHEHEHEH NAWOOOOO HE EHEHEHEH PLEEAAHEHEHEHEHEH STAWWPP AHAHAHAHAHH ISSAHAHAHBEEHEHEHLLALAAAAAA!!!”
Isabella tickled her for a few more seconds, enjoying the touch of her bare feet too much to stop at once, before finally showing mercy. Then she got off her victim’s legs and helped her out of the wall. The woman who emerged was a mess, red faced, hair disheveled, clothes out of place and covered with sweat. She was, however, obviously not Chinese.
“That…that’s not… not fair Isabella…,” she gasped for air, still breathless from her ordeal, “You know I can’t…can’t stand it on my toes!” Unlike the jumpsuit issued to everyone in the other Vaults, Vault T’s uniform consisted of a fairly short skirt and a sleeveless blouse with a rather low neckline. Both articles of clothing had ridden up several inches during the woman’s ordeal, and she had to adjust them carefully before they were covering up all the body parts they were supposed to.
“Da comrade Melissa,” Isabella said in the Russian accent she had used earlier, “That is why you are communist now, sneaking into American vault.” She leaned in and gave the redhead a soft but passionate kiss.
“Sneaking in! That’s ridiculous!” Melissa growled in mock fury, “You know there’s no way in or out of this vault!” She reached out and tickled Isabella’s underarms for a second, left exposed by the same sleeveless blouse, forcing a few chuckles from her partner before she was able to grab Melissa’s arms, still weak from her tickling ordeal, and hold them.
“Now, now, you know the rules. It doesn’t matter what I said,” Isabella smiled, “You gave in, broke under the mighty power of my tickles, so you need to be punished. You will have to be the one to sneak into my room tonight, unseen by prying eyes. Right?”
Now it was Melissa’s turn to be embarrassed. She looked around from side to side to make sure no one else heard that comment and learned the girls’ dirty little secret. Seeing no one, she blushed in that pretty way all redheads have and nodded.
Isabella’s and Melissa’s relationship was a strange one, the kind only possible in Vault T. Before the war, neither had considered themselves lesbian or even bisexual. Melissa had been happily married woman for nearly ten years, while Isabella, barely 21, had still been enjoying bouncing from boyfriend to boyfriend, sampling all the wares of the male population. Then they both had to do without.
Though they first met, like all 100 women, on that first horrible day when bombs had started dropping and the two ton vault door had sealed them inside for a decade, they hadn’t really gotten to know each other until one of the many social functions organized by the Overseer a month later. Despite their age difference, they became fast friends.
As they grew closer, they began to trust each other more, to share their problems in the way women do. Both women, it seemed, were suffering from the lack of male companionship. They had been used to a full sex life, and now, to suddenly have to do without was rough.
“I’ve heard other women complain about sex as if it was an annoyance,” Isabella confided to Melissa one night, “Or they brag how they use it to win arguments! I could never do that! I’m sure I wanted to make love as much if not more than any of my boyfriends! How could I hold out?”
“I know,” Melissa would sympathize, “While all my married friends seemed happy their husbands only wanted it once a month, by husband and I were doing it three times a week! And if he had decided that was too much, I’d have driven him to the doctor for some Viagra!”
The weeks passed and both of their needs increased. That, along with the knowledge that it would be years before they would see any man again, led them to take comfort in each other’s arms. At first, ashamed, they only used each other to quench their physical needs. Soon, however, they friendship became more and more intimate, until they became a couple.
It didn’t take long until, during a particularly erotic encounter, that Isabella and Melissa discovered that their partner had a tickling fetish similar to their own. That was something neither woman had ever found in a man, and only served to bring them closer together.
“You know,” Melissa said, lying on the ground and looking up seductively, “Most of the cameras are down in this wing. We could have our little…fun and games right here, and no one would know. I wouldn’t have to find a way into your quarters without half of the living quarters seeing me.”
“I don’t know,” Isabella whispered, her mouth growing dry, “I am technically on duty…”
“Oh come now, I think Vault T can do without you for an hour,” she lifted her leg and waggled her bare foot back and forth, “You can go back to interrogating your communist spy…”
Isabella reached out for that foot, could already feel the soft skin under her fingertips again, hear Melissa’s hysterical laughter echoing in her ears, when…the Pip Boy 3000 on her wrist began to deep. She sighed deeply in frustration and looked down at its screen.”
“Officer Latimer,” the message read, “We have a report of the Tunnel Snakes causing trouble again. Please investigate immediately. Overseer.”
“Damn it!” Isabella swore, her voice dripping with frustration, “Sorry honey, I hate to break this up, but duty calls. I…I hope we can still get together tonight?” She tried to keep the disappointment and longing out of her voice, but Melissa could hear it anyway.
“Oh, alright,” Melissa exhaled, pretending to give in grudgingly, “I guess your little Chinese spy will find a way to get there unseen. After all, stealth is what we excel in! Then we can have some fun.”
“You are the best! See you then my little communist!” And with that Isabella ran off down the corridor, headed for the nearest elevator.
Suddenly all alone, Melissa could only shake her head, “Well, at least I’ll have more time to recover before she tickles me senselessly again.” With that, she crawled back through the maintenance hatch to finally fix the loose electrical junction she had started on before being so rudely interrupted.
Neither woman noticed the deep blue eyes staring at them from around the corner, or the pair of ruby red lips that crept up ever so slightly into a sly grin.
